


The Children of Ithuriel

by AerisLei



Series: The Shadow World: Rewritten [3]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, alternating snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 13:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AerisLei/pseuds/AerisLei
Summary: The Children of Ithuriel is an introductory piece to the second half of the Shadow world: rewritten. Of Faeries and Angels (and it's sequel) follow Helen and Mark Blackthorn, this and its sequel(s) will follow Clary and Jace.Short alternating scenes display the drastically different ways the two with the blood of Ithuriel were raised. It sets the stage for what will happen when their worlds collide together.





	The Children of Ithuriel

Jace shivered slightly as he struggled to concentrate on the task his father had set him. It was simple, really. He was just supposed to be training like normal. He knew the drill by now backward and forwards and yet the boy couldn’t manage to keep up with it. That was probably the most frustrating thing about it all. He could do this! But his body wouldn't cooperate and his mind couldn't focus. Each movement of the pattern was harder than the last four the seven-year-old to complete properly. His father watched with obvious displeasure. “You can do better than this.” He chastised coldly. 

“Yes, sir.” Jace’s voice was quiet, and he again focused on ignoring his body’s protest as he started the pattern all over again. One foot was put down out of place, and Jace stumbled slightly. 

“What has gotten into you?” His dad demanded, seizing Jace’s lower arm and forcing the boy to stop moving for a moment.

“I…” The boy considered the correct answer for a moment. The truth, always the truth. It was dangerous to lie. “I don’t feel very well.” He admitted softly. Normally bright golden eyes had a dull quality to them, and the skin under Valentine’s touch was warmer than it should have been.

“Demons won’t care if you aren’t well.” Valentine countered. “Do it again, correctly this time.”

“Yes, father.” And Jace started the pattern over once Valentine had withdrawn to give him the space to do so. He did better, this time, up to a point. The first half of the training pattern was _almost_ perfect. But then things went downhill again. Jace became dizzy and his stomach twisted strangely and before he really had a chance to react, breakfast made a sudden reappearance on the training room floor. 

The boy froze in place. 

Valentine made a displeased noise from the far side, and Jace flinched just slightly. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” He whispered meekly.

“Clean up, and then go back to bed.” The words were dismissive, but Jace knew it was a kindness he would not normally receive. Last time he’d made a mess of himself during training he’d been forced to remain in it until it was convenient for Valentine to stop the session to have him clean up.

He’d been punished for that weakness. But being sent back to bed wasn’t really a punishment, it was just a natural consequence, he thought. Father hadn’t seemed _angry_ either, more resigned. 

Jace was upset at himself though. He was better than this. He was supposed to be _stronger_ than this, and yet here he was, losing a battle with his own body.

Jace focused on cleaning up as he had been instructed to, and then returned to his bedroom as his father had told him to. The boy laid down on his bed, curling up slightly on his side reflexively. It made his stomach feel a little better to lay like that. 

Golden eyes closed, and for a time, Jace slept. 

The boy felt much better the next time he woke up, a few hours later. He considered seeking out his father but decided against it. Instead, he moved from his bed to the desk in his room to practice with some of his other studies. 

Pages and pages of runes and their meanings - the boy concentrated on working through the list that his father had marked for this week. They mostly stuck in his mind easily, but there were still a few he managed to mix up with unfortunate regularity. That could get someone killed if he couldn’t manage to use the right runes.

It was important to know the right runes for the right moments, just as it was important to know the weaknesses of demons and downworlders alike, and the symptoms of various poisons just in case. 

He was only eight, and his dad said that he was more competent than some adult shadowhunters that he knew. Jace knew his father was flattering him, mostly, but the thought made him smile a little anyway. Now, if only he could stop disappointing father by showing weakness. His best wasn’t good enough, he had to try harder. 

But he would master it, he would. He _had_ to. He had to make father proud of him. 

* * *

Clary was four, Valencia was only two. The pair sat together on the floor of the warlock’s loft, seemingly speaking a language only they knew. Jocelyn stood back a little, watching the girls on the floor while Magnus prepared to renew the spell he had on the both of them. It was temporary, of course. The spell made them forget what they saw of the Shadow World. He’d said that blinding them permanently to it was impossible without destroying their minds. It was unfortunate, but the girls didn’t seem to dislike him at least.

It made these monthly visits much less traumatizing than they might’ve been otherwise. It would get harder as they got older, convincing them to come along. She’d think of something, at least until they were old enough to understand.

Clary held a small stuffed dog in her lap, and Valencia grabbed for it. The older of the two made an unhappy sound, but let the younger girl take it anyway. “Alright, bring me, Clary,” Magnus said finally, a hint of displeasure in his tone. There always was - he didn’t precisely believe that this was the best course of action, but the Warlock had never refused. Perhaps because he knew another of his kind would do it, and perhaps cause more harm than he did.

Jocelyn did as instructed, taking Clarissa by the hand and leading her into the next room. She then scooped the girl up and set her in the chair that sat in the middle of the room before retreating to make sure Valencia didn’t pull anything down on top of herself or put something in her mouth that might be dangerous. Magnus had all sorts of… oddities in the flat, after all.

What felt like only a few moments later, it was time to switch places for Valencia’s turn. 

Two and four with such clear vision of the Shadow World, she’d hoped they would be born blind to it all. It was not to be, it seemed. 

She didn’t want them to be a part of that world. Jocelyn wanted them to be safe from it. Safe from the Shadowhunters who would judge them for their blood, safe from demons whom they might never need learn how to fight. _Safe. _Even if it meant taking away this part of them. 

She thanked Magnus for his help, and then took the girls back out into the city. This time neither one seemed to react to the tiny pixies playing in the bushes. It was for the best, it was _exactly_ what she wanted.

Jocelyn took them home and fed the both of them before putting Valencia down for a nap. 

One day, Jocelyn knew she would have to answer for this choice, but that day was not today, and for now, her girls were safe from whatever might come. Luke entered a short while later and gave her a questioning look. Jocelyn nodded. Luke looked somewhat troubled but inclined in his head in a nod.

* * *

Jace was barely ten years old when Father decided it was time to put his first runes on. Jace was excited, the first runes were a great step towards becoming a full Shadowhunter, and that he was ready so early meant his training had come very far in a considerably short amount of time. On the other hand, Jace was barely ten years old, and while the Stele didn't _really_ hurt when it touched him, the boy didn't know what he had in store later that night. 

Still, his first rune was in place, drawn by Valentine's steady hand, and there was a quiet murmur of praise for Jace being so still and allowing it to be done. The boy practically glowed with pride.

That night, Jace suffered from nightmares. Vibrant, bloody dreams that had no rhyme or reason. The boy didn't tell his father of the dreams. They, too, were a rite of passage. Runes placed on a Shadowhunter too young had their own effects, even when everything else was perfect. Jace didn't complain that he hardly slept when it was time to get up in the morning.

Dutifully he returned to his training. Dutifully he did as his father asked. He _did_ try to avoid looking at the mews that still stood, a silent testament to his failure with the hawk his father had told him to train. A reminder of a harsh lesson about love that the boy would _never_ forget. But that lesson on love had done its job. Strength was the key, was the most important thing hands down, and Shadowhunters could not afford the weakness that emotions afforded them. That night, his father allowed Jace to join him on his first hunt. That night, Jace killed his first demon under Valentine's watchful eye.

The boy had never felt more proud, had never felt more like he was doing _exactly_ what his dad wanted him to do. 

Jace had no idea how shortlived this happiness would be, but for that moment, he reveled in it. 

* * *

Clary elbowed Simon lightly in the ribs. The boy got the point quickly and sat up correctly in his chair. Valencia rolled her eyes from across the table and Jocelyn and Luke joined them. Dinner was a light affair, carefully chosen to keep with kosher traditions to ensure that there was nothing on the table that Simon couldn't eat. Talk was light, mostly of how things were going at school and a movie they'd all gone to see together recently. 

This was a nice night, and a good time to remember the family that they had formed here. Simon was Clary's friend from school, they'd been in the same classes off and on since kindergarten and it showed in the way they interacted together.

Clary and Valencia were half sisters, with their father's being different. Most didn't know that, because the question just didn't come up. They were only around two years apart, and the both of them took after Jocelyn considerably with red hair. Clary's eyes were green like her mothers, and Valencia had blue eyes like Luke. If you looked closely, Clary's build was similar to Jocelyn's but different all the same, while Valencia took after her more fully in build and height. Clary would be taller, maybe, when she was fully grown.

She'd never known her father. Jocelyn just said that he'd been a military man who'd never come home. Clary didn't feel anything for the one painting that her mother had done of him. But for Clary, Luke _was_ her dad and maybe that was enough. 

* * *

"Stay here." His father said firmly, pushing Johnathan into a hidden location before leaving him alone there. Johnathan crouched in the shadows where his father had left him, fear trilling through him. Something was wrong, his father was upset or angry about something. Johnathan hadn't done anything this time, and didn't know what it might be. He stayed, obedient to his father's will even as it seemed that his father was preparing for battle.

Despite the preparation, Johnathan didn't know what to think when suddenly several men entered the main room of the small house that they shared together. Johnathan didn't move, barely dared to breath as his father raised his blade to meet them. _They were Shadowhunters._

"We've found you now, Wayland." One of the men, the one who seemed to be leading growled. The fight was fast, Johnathan could hardly follow it from where he was hiding. 

And then it was over. His father lay in a pool of blood, and Johnathan could only remember that his father had called them circle members when they had exchanged barbs during the fight. Circle members, those who had stood with Valentine against the Clave. 

Circle members had killed his father. When Johnathan was sure he was alone, he crept out of the place he'd been told to hide and crouched beside the still body. He tried and irtaze even though it seemed futile. The rune faded instantly with no effect at all. 

The dead could not be healed.

He'd been taught how to send a fire message and after a short time, Johnathan did send one to the nearest cluster of shadowhunters that he knew of. The boy remained huddled beside his father's body afterward. 

Johnathan didn't know the whole thing had been orchestrated by his father. He didn't know that the ones he sent the plea for help to were _also_ circle members, those who had stayed under the radar and remained within the clave. He didn't know, and perhaps he would never know if things went the way Valentine had planned for them to.

The Shadowhunters came and the rest of what happened was in a quiet blur. 

Over the next few days, it was 'decided' that Johnathan would be sent to New York, to Michael Wayland's parabatai Robert Lightwood. He would continue his training there in the institute with the Lightwood children, whom he was reasonably close in age to. Johnathan was apathetic to the whole situation. A splinter of hatred settled in his heart as he vowed silently to avenge his father's death at the hands of the circle. But outwardly, he remained seemingly numb.

The portal from Idris to New York was nothing notable to the boy who was closed off from the world.

Introductions with children his age were awkward. He'd _never_ interacted with other children, even other shadowhunter children. 

"I'm Alec!" The dark haired boy greeted with a smile. Blue eyes shined brightly. 

Johnathan eyed him slightly, clearly not sure what to make of the boy. "Johnathan." He informed the other almost stiffly. 

"I'm Isabelle." 

Johnathan nodded slightly in her direction before returning his attention to Robert and Maryse. 

* * *

Clary was supposed to be asleep, Valencia already was, and she did lay quietly _trying_ to fall asleep, but she hadn't been able to yet. And in this quiet-but-awake state, she overheard her parents begin to speak in the living room. The girl remained very still and quiet, still planning to try to fall asleep, not _really_ listening.

"I heard some unfortunate news."

"Oh?" Jocelyn's answer was much quieter, and Clary only barely heard it.

"The circle found and killed Wayland."

This time, Clary _didn't_ hear what her mother said to Luke. Who was Wayland though? And what... circle?

"We'll have to be careful," Luke continued. "You were never convinced Valentine was really gone, and I'm not either. Not after this." There was another pause in which Clary heard her mother speak, but couldn't parse out the words. _Valentine?_

That was the last conscious thought Clary had before finally dropping off to sleep fully, and by morning the conversation would be a blurry haze that she wouldn't ever _really_ remember. 

* * *

Johnathan had come a long way from the boy who came to the institute disinterested in those his own age. ... In some ways, at least. He went by Jace these days, a nickname that Maryse had come up with and it had somehow stuck. He didn't mind it, it was shorter and somehow felt more personal. 

He and Alec were to become parabatai. They'd been training together for nearly a year, and very soon they would be permitted to complete the ceremony. Parabatai like their father's before them - Maryse had praised the decision, but Robert had said nothing. Well, it was logical that it would still sting considerably that he'd lost his parabatai so recently. Jace felt for him - but Robert hadn't _been_ there either. Maybe one day, Jace would ask why that was.

Not today.

Today he and Alec were sparring in the training room. Today, they were working on hand to hand skills. The training was rough, but it was fun, even if they did end up tossing each other around rather often. The mats on the hard wooden floor made it less painful than it might've been otherwise. Hodge oversaw the training, but didn't interfere as they sparred together.

Mostly he was there to make sure they didn't kill each other, Jace supposed. 

* * *

Clary didn't know where the dog had come from. One moment it hadn't been there at all, the next it had latched onto her calf and she was screaming. Her mother had come, had saved her from it. The wounds on her calf were deep and they burned like fire.

"Mom it hurts." She whispered. She was twelve and it was probably the most painful thing she'd ever experienced. Jocelyn quietly soothed the girl before picking her up and bundling her into Luke's truck with an old towel to keep on the wound for now.

Getting to the hospital didn't take long, but they were separated there, and Clary could only see her mom talking to one of the nurses.

For a second, Clary turned her head just right and from the corner of her eye she could have sworn the nurse was _blue_ but when she turned her head to get a better look the flicker was gone. Clary had to assume she'd seen nothing. It made more sense than the nurse being _blue_ anyway.

The nurse (who was decidedly not blue) came over a moment or two later and started to tend the injury on her calf. Something she put on the wound took the burning away immediately, and Clary found herself relaxing under her touch despite the pain. It was so much more _bearable_ now.

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright?" Alec asked for the third time in the last ten minutes.

"I'm fine." Jace's tone was a little sharp. "Honestly, Alec. I'm fine. Let's go." The blond didn't wait for his parabatai to respond before he continued moving. They were on a patrol, all three of them together. They were _probably_ a little young for it, but they were also exemplary and they'd proven themselves in training time and time again.

It was a simple patrol with no reported issues. They'd be just fine, even if he _wasn't_ in perfect condition.

Some small corner of his mind knew he should be honest with Alec, knew that his parabatai couldn't cover him properly if he didn't know there was something wrong, but it didn't matter because it wasn't going to come up. It'd be just fine. He'd be fine. It was just a stomachache. 

He'd trained with worse before, and probably would again.

Things were fine, as Jace had predicted. At least, up to a point they were. None of them were expecting the Eidolon pair that had come out of one of the back alleyways suddenly. Alec fell back a pace, drawing his bow and Jace called his seraph blade to life. 

The fight was swift, Alec got the kill on one, and Izzy got the other primarily because Jace's balance failed him and he ended up half under the damn thing when he fell. If they hadn't _both _been there Jace wasn't sure what would have happened.

"We're going back now." Alec said it flatly in a way that brooked no argument, immediately after helping Jace back up onto his feet. "You're burning up, Jace." 

"You're overreacting." Jace argued, defensively.

"You shouldn't have come out here at _all_ with a fever like that." He snapped back. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm _fine_." He growled. 

"We're still going back." Alec turned on his heel and true to his word, the path they followed returned them to the institute despite Jace's growling protest. 

Once they were there Alec half dragged him up the stairs and into the infirmary, still ignoring Jace's adamant protests that he was overreacting.

Alec wasn't. The fever, Maryse decided, was a sign of a rather significant illness that Jace had picked up. One that left untreated could do serious damage. He'd be banned from patrols until the virus had cleared his system. The woman didn't understand Jace's response when she asked why he didn't tell anyone though. Because it didn't matter, because he should work through it? During a crisis maybe... but he was still a child and this was hardly an emergency situation. 

It sat wrong with her, because it didn't feel like something Michael would have taught his son. Michael, who truly had believed in taking time to recover from battle before charging headlong into the next. Jace, instead, preferred to rush headlong into battle all the time and never took a pause to rest. It was hard to reconcile for Maryse.

"There's something that's been bothering me," Maryse began, not quite looking at Robert as she spoke. They were alone, now. 

"Hm?"

"The way Jace acts sometimes... I have a hard time imagining he was raised by the same Michael we knew. I know, you probably don't want to think about it but isn't it strange?"

Robert said nothing for a moment, and then sighed. "He's been through a lot, Maryse. He's probably pushing himself because of that." Robert was perfectly willing to dismiss the situation as not unusual at all. Still, it sat wrong to her. 

"If your sure." The woman was clearly not convinced, but she didn't argue, instead taking her leave of Robert. 

* * *

"Clary come here and close the door." 

The girl made a strange face, but did as her mother asked. Luke was gone, he was gone about once a month. Mom was always a little strange while dad was gone. She tried not to think about it too much. "Yes, mom?"

In Jocelyn's had was a cylindrical tube with several strange markings that Clary couldn't quite focus on. "This isn't going to make a lot of sense, but I just want you to remember it, just in case." 

"...Okay." She said it slowly, still confused as she tried to focus on the object.

"If you're ever in danger and I'm not here. If things feel wrong and you don't understand what's happening but you know you are going to be hurt, take this into your hands and call it's name. It's name is Ithuriel."

Clary frowned slightly. "You sound like me, when I've been reading too many fantasy books again, mom."

"Clary I'm serious."

"Okay, okay. I'll remember." But privately she didn't think it was going to matter any. Mom hardly ever left her alone and somehow she doubted calling that tube anything would protect her if she _did_. Ithuriel. The name felt right somehow, it settled deep in her heart. It would become a half-remembered memory that might server her well one day, but for now, it was nothing of use.

* * *

Ever since Maryse had brought up Jace's behavior not aligning with being raised by someone like Michael, Robert wondered. He wondered enough that he'd dug through their wedding photos despite the unpleasantness of seeing half the circle in them, and eventually found the one he was looking for. It was a very clear picture of himself and Michael standing together. They looked happy, he thought. If only it could have _stayed_ that way forever.

No matter. Robert found himself tapping lightly on Jace's door a few moments later, and the other called him inside. 

"This might be a little late, and if you don't want it, that's fine. But I was going through some of my old things and I found a picture of your father and I that I thought you might want."

Jace looked like he was considering refusing for a moment, but nodded eventually, holding out a hand for the picture. Robert watched as Jace looked down at it, and then his expression changed from carefully controlled to utterly confused. "I don't... know this man." He handed the picture back to Robert, his expression clearly uncertain. "My father had light blond hair."

Robert looked slightly uncomfortable. Not his... but that meant that the Clave had been misinformed. "Come with me then. We'll look at the other pictures together and find one. Sorry about that."

"If this is your parabatai... what does that mean?"

"That there was some misinformation. It's fine, Jace. You're family." The words were given half dismissively, but Robert _didn't_ intend to send Jace away, even though the off handed description sounded like it was _Valentine_ who had raised him.

They ended up in Robert's office, and Robert himself continued flipping through pictures of the wedding while Jace watched. It wasn't until they came to one where Valentine was clear that the boy stopped him, pointing to Valentine. 

He let Jace take _that_ picture instead, before sending him back to train with the others. Maryse found him there a while later, looking quite troubled.

"Well?"

"Michael isn't his father." There was a pause, Maryse clearly expected him to continue. "Valentine is." 

"That isn't possible. Valentine died in that fire with his son."

"...Did he?" 

She looked as troubled as he did. "We can't tell the Clave. They'll go ballistic. They'll may even remove him. He's just a kid, Robert."

Was he? Robert wasn't so sure. Valentine had been just another Shadowhunter for years. But he had told Jace that he was family, and it would be a cruel betrayal to change his mind just because of something that Jace himself couldn't control. It wasn't as if the boy had _chosen_ his father. 

* * *

"I'm not sure about letting them get close." Jocelyn was frowning as she watched the warlock girl - Alyssa, apparently - interacting with Valencia. "But they're in the same class at school, too. And they seem to get along."

"Alyssa knows not to tell anyone about the shadow world." Magnus responded calmly. "They could both use a friend their own age. And, when it's time, it will be comforting for Valencia to have someone she's familiar with to use as a touch stone." 

"I guess you're right." Jocelyn still didn't want to consider the fact that soon enough she was going to have to tell the girls at least part of the truth. But Valencia was 13 this year, and it seemed so young. Still, Jocelyn had already been nearly ready for patrols by the time she was Valencia's age - and had been hunting with her own Parabatai for a year by the time she was Clary's age. The thought of Anahera stung a little, and she pushed it away. "It _is_ good that they seem to get along so well." There was a slight pause. "How did you come to care for her, anyway?"

"She was attacked by remaining circle members in Los Angeles. The goal of the attack was unclear. She needed a home and a teacher, so I took her in."

Jocelyn looked uncomfortable at the news. The circle, attacking a downworlder. The circle taking action _at all_ again. It set her on edge. 

"You're going to have to tell them soon, Jocelyn."

"You let me deal with them." She responded calmly, holding onto her resolve.

"Just make sure you actually do deal with it." Magnus wondered if she knew she couldn't run forever.

* * *

T he streets were running with blood and teeming with demons. The buildings around them were ablaze. Alec was close, Jace could sense him reflexively. And he could see Isabelle fighting along side him. But with her... with her was a strange girl with red hair that glowed in the light of the flames. The girl's green eyes cut into his soul.

The scene changed around him, and he was standing back to back with someone who wasn't Alec. He started to turn his head and caught sight of the same red hair. There was an air of familiarity in the way they stood together. He didn't understand, he'd never seen her before. Her skin bore runes, she was a shadowhunter like him.

The dream broke apart, and Jace woke in the dim light of his room. A short nap had been the plan before the patrol, and he'd gotten the nap in, but the dreams he'd had... Jace almost wished he'd stayed awake and played that game with Max after all. Well, it was too late for that.

The teen got up then, running his fingers through his blond hair quickly to neaten it and then beginning to change into gear. They were tracking an Eidolon that night, and wanted to be prepared for anything.

* * *

"What's that from?" Simon asked, inclining his head at the well-muscled blond male with strange swirling patterns drawn over his skin. Clary was still working on the drawing, but Simon didn't recognize what it had come from, which was strange since they watched a lot of the same types of movies.

"A dream, actually." She admitted absentmindedly as she added in wings behind the figure, carefully working to give them the effect of burning around the edges. "It sort of came out of nowhere. I must have seen it in a movie or read something at some point but I just..." She shrugged. "I wanted to draw him."

"Do you think your mom's going to let you come out tonight?"

"Of course, it's my birthday." Clary hadn't... actually asked for permission, and she thought she'd skip the part that they were going to _Pandemonium_ because her mom hated it when she went there. "Let me worry about my mom. But she practically never says no if its you."

Simon nodded a little, accepting that answer.

She was turning sixteen! That didn't happen every day.

Clary didn't know just how much the world was going to change around her going forward. Clary didn't know that this happiness would be short lived. She didn't _know_ that her world was about to crash into a world she had always lived on the edge of without really seeing it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [Aerislei's Fics](https://aerisleis-fics.tumblr.com/) \- you're welcome to come chat or send asks or anything!


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